


42 Seconds

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Break Up, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 13:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15995930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: Sunday is Isak’s ideal day. The day he looks forward to.This Sunday, Isak wakes up at 1pm, and the room is dark. The bed is empty and there’s no smell of breakfast. Even hasn’t slept next to him all week. The only thing that’s the same as every other Sunday for the past 23 months is the fact that Isak doesn’t want to get out of bed.





	42 Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> i edited this but it’s 4am and i’m posting on my phone bc #hurricane so yolo right

Sundays are Isak’s favorite day of the week. Every Sunday, Even wakes up early and makes a breakfast way too big for the both of them. The breakfast always goes cold because they always get distracted, be it just for cuddles or for slow morning sex—depending on the mood. But they eat cold breakfast until their stomachs can’t take anymore, and then they spend the rest of the morning binging _Breaking Bad._ When they get too restless to stay in bed, they go for walks. When they get bored of TV, they have sex.

Sunday is Isak’s ideal day. The day he looks forward to.

This Sunday, Isak wakes up at 1pm, and the room is dark. The bed is empty and there’s no smell of breakfast. Even hasn’t slept next to him all week. The only thing that’s the same as every other Sunday for the past 23 months is the fact that Isak doesn’t want to get out of bed.

Isak reaches through the dark for his phone. When he clicks it on, his lock screen is flooded with notifications. His heart leaps into his throat—maybe they’re missed calls and texts from Even, maybe he missed something while he was asleep.

His bleary eyes adjust, and he realizes they’re all from Jonas. He should’ve known better than to get his hopes up.

_(12:12am) Hey, are you okay?_

_[2 missed calls from Jonas]_

_(12:45am) Mikael told me what happened last night. Please tell me you’re okay._

_(1:00am) It won’t hurt forever, Isak_

_(1:13am) Do you want to talk about it?_

_(1:14am) I’ll come over if you need me, don’t think I won’t_

_(2:01am) Isak at least let me know you’re alive, I’m really worried_

_[3 missed calls from Jonas]_

_(2:56am) I hope you’re asleep. You’ll feel better in the morning ❤️_

_(9:07am) I don’t know why I said you’d feel better in the morning. That was dumb_

_(9:08am) Call me, please_

_(9:10am) Even if you’re not hungry, you need to eat. Remember that._

_[1 missed call from Jonas]_

_(10:11am) Call me when you’re awake ❤️ love you_

For a moment, Isak’s thumb hovers over the call button. Part of him wants nothing more than Jonas’s voice, something to keep his mind off of last night. He doesn’t want to keep replaying the fight in his mind, he doesn’t want to keep thinking of how his heart hit the ground like shattered glass when he saw Even walk out the door, and he doesn’t want to think about how much he’d vomited after realizing Even wasn’t coming back this time. He can still sort of taste the bile on his tongue, and that’s reminder enough.

In the end, he decides to just turn his phone off and roll back over. Having Jonas call would just make things worse, he thinks. Jonas would want him to talk about it, and he’d want to comfort. Isak just wants to _forget,_ he wants to pretend it never fucking happened, even if just for a little while. He wants to think of something else.

He lays on his stomach, shoving his head under the pillow. It still smells like Even, all over this  fucking bed, even though he hadn’t slept a full night there in almost a week. He told Isak over and over that he had plans, that he was staying with the boys. Isak had known that was the beginning of the end. Or, at least, he _should’ve_ known.

_“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Even said, adding a pair of clean jeans to his bag. Isak was suddenly overcome with the intense urge to light that stupid bag—the same one he’d used on their trip to New York just four months ago—on fire. And maybe the whole fucking apartment with it. “I made these plans already, I can’t back out now.”_

_“Why the hell not?” Isak snapped, and he ripped the jeans right out of the bag and shoved them back in the drawer. Even had rolled his eyes, and retrieved them again. “Fuck you, Even. I’ve barely seen you this week at all and you’re leaving again? I fucking_ miss _you.”_

_Even frowned, so Isak looked away. He didn’t want that fucking patronizing pity. “I’m sorry, Isak. I promised the guys, and you know how hard I’ve been working to make friendships here.”_

_“Yeah, yeah, what the fuck ever.”_

_Isak stomped across the room, and slammed cabinets and drawers as he poured himself a glass of water. He was so angry as he watched Even pack a bag that he was scared that he might actually shatter the glass in his hand._

_“Isak,” Even began, but Isak hadn’t wanted to hear it. Instead, he threw the glass of water, which he’d only taken a sip of, in the sink and stomped right back to the bed, where he sat on the end with his arms folded. “I’ll be back in the morning,” Even offered quietly, and Isak glared._

_“If you hate sleeping next to me so much, you could at least grow the fucking balls to tell me.”_

_With that, he’d locked himself in the bathroom and cried. Even knocked on the door for only four minutes before he’d decided to leave, and Isak cried harder when he heard the door close._

He hadn’t meant what he said. He didn’t think Even actually hated sleeping next to him—that was something he’d believed was impossible. He’d only said it to hurt Even, to make him realize what he was _doing_ to Isak. Clearly, it hadn’t worked. If anything, it had the opposite effect.

His phone buzzes next to him, and Isak picks it up, just in case it is Even. He answers it without glancing at the caller ID—he doesn’t want to know if it is or it isn’t. Schrödinger’s phone call.

_“Isak?”_

It’s Jonas. Isak sinks back into the bed, letting the phone rest against the mattress and just laying near it. “Hi,” he croaks out, his voice worn out from crying the night before.

_“Thank fuck you’re awake. I was really worried.”_

“Thanks for checking on me.”

 _“Of course, bro.”_ A pause. _“How are you feeling?”_

Isak snorts. “How do you think I’m doing, Jonas? I have no energy to get out of bed, I’m not hungry, I’ve cried so much that there’s no moisture left in my body, and I miss him so much it hurts.”

_“Yeah, that’s what I figured. I’m so fucking sorry, Issy. Do you want to talk about it?”_

“No.”

_“Do you want me to come up there? I’m sure Mom would understand me missing a few days of school for this.”_

Once again, Isak hesitates. Maybe being alone isn’t best for him right now. Maybe Jonas won’t press, maybe they can just play video games and gorge on shitty pizza. Maybe Jonas will bring weed, and Isak can get high, and smoke until the bed smells like weed and not like Even. Maybe then he’ll actually get some sleep.

But he says no, once again. As much as he knows the company would benefit him, he can’t bring himself to want to be with anyone. He’d rather wallow in his own depression, even if it means reliving the past night over and over again. Hell, if he thinks about it enough, perhaps he’ll actually figure out what the fuck happened. Besides, Jonas needs to go to school.

 _“Are you sure? I can even bring food and video games, and we can do anything you want for_ days _. I think I have some weed left…”_

“Thank you, Jonas,” Isak mumbles, letting his heavy eyelids droop closed. He’s exhausted to the bone, like he could sleep for days—but he knows that he won’t fall asleep properly for weeks. “But I really just want to be alone right now. Have time to process everything.”

_“Okay. Yeah, I get it. You can be alone, Isak, you’re entitled to that. Hey, though, you know you’re not alone, right? Not emotionally. I’m here for you. The boys, too. Eva, Noora, Eskild… You have so many people who love you. You’re not alone, not really.”_

“I know. Thank you.”

_“Yeah. Just call me if you need me, okay? Promise.”_

Isak would smile if he thought he was physically capable. “I will. I promise.”

_“Okay. It won’t hurt forever, Issy, please try to remember that. I love you.”_

After they hang up, Isak puts his phone on Do Not Disturb and tosses it over the side of the bed. The cluttering sound it makes should concern him, but he can’t be assed to care in the moment. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, or see anyone, or have anyone else ask how he’s doing. If anyone else asks, he might just crumble into dust.

He lays there for as long as he can, before deciding that the urge to use the bathroom is outweighing his lead bones. He drags himself to the bathroom and forces himself to follow the rest of his normal routine too, minus the shower. But his teeth get brushed, his face is washed, and he makes sure to wash his hands.

Eating is unfathomable, so he skips it, and goes right back to bed.

He’s half-asleep for what feels like an hour but turns out to be six hours. It’s nearly eight o’clock at night when someone knocks on the door, and rage fills Isak’s veins. He’d told Jonas he wanted to be left alone, so if he’d called one of Isak’s uni friends to check up on him because of unanswered calls and texts, Isak will kill him.

He tries to ignore the knocking, but it starts messing with his brain. It makes him think of the night before, the last time someone knocked on the door. Isak wishes he’d answered that sooner.

_“How long were you going to keep me locked out here?!” Even demanded, and Isak didn’t say a word. He just went right back to doing his homework, and ignored the way Even slammed things around._

_Tension had been growing ever since the previous Monday evening, and it felt like it had finally hit the boiling point. It was just a waiting game, then, to see who snapped first._

_Even snapped first._

_“I’m really fucking tired of this.”_

_“Of what?” Isak responded, without looking up from his textbook. “Not being home every night? Yeah, I’m tired of that, too.”_

_Isak chilled to his core when he heard Even say, too calmly, “No, I’m tired of this_ . _Of_ us _.”_

_Isak sat straight up, and turned around to face Even where he’d stood at the opposite side of the room. “What the fuck do you mean, you’re tired of us? You’re tired of me, is that what you’re saying?”_

_“No!” Even protested, but then he’d quickly recanted that. “I mean, yes. But no. I just… God, Isak, I’m so tired of doing this. I’m tired of feeling like I’m giving 90% and you’re giving 10%. I can’t do this shit anymore.”_

_“I’m giving 10%?! You’re the one who spends every night with Anders, and—”_

_“I’ve spent the last few night with Anders because I can’t stand being here,” Even snapped, and just like that, the world stopped spinning._

_Scientifically, if the world stopped spinning for 42 seconds, a number of things would happen. First, catastrophic winds. If the world stopped turning, the atmosphere would continue to do so, creating 1,670 km/h winds. Second, Newton’s First Law Of Motion: the objects in motion will tend to stay in motion. Everyone and everything on Earth will fly forward at a speed of 1,670 km/h. Third, once the world starts turning again, the days will become 42 seconds longer._

_Isak stayed silent for 42 seconds. Around him, nothing flew around the room. There were no winds that busted the windows or tore the roof off of the complex. Isak stayed sat in the rickety, mismatched kitchen chair, and Even stayed flat-footed in the corner of the room, and nothing about the world changed even though Isak’s world had completely stopped rotating._

_When it started spinning again, and it felt like he could breathe enough to say something, it damn sure felt like it’d been 84 seconds._

_“When were you planning to tell me this?” He asked, his voice raspy. When the world stopped, the 1,670 km/h winds must’ve been in his throat._

_Even stared at the floor. “I don’t know. Never? I was hoping things would change, that… That you’d start looking at me the way you used to, that we’d be in love again.” Even must’ve heard the way Isak had shattered just at those words, because his eyes went wide. “Shit, Isak, I know what you’re thinking and I didn’t mean—”_

_“You don’t love me anymore?” Isak asked, and it felt like every organ in his stomach was stuck on a loop of 1,670 km/h while Isak was absolutely still._

_“I will always love you,” Even said firmly, but it didn’t feel warm anymore. It felt like a promise in the worst way, like promising someone you’ll keep in touch with them even though the both of you know that, despite your best efforts, you’ll fall out of touch sooner rather than later. “I always have and I always will. There will never be a day that I’m not madly in love with you. But love doesn’t conquer all, okay? This isn’t the movies. I can’t keep sacrificing my happiness to stay with you, and you can’t keep sacrificing yours to stay with me.”_

_“This relationship has never felt like a sacrifice to me, Even,” Isak snapped, all venom. “I love you.”_

_“I know that, baby,” Even insists. “But it doesn’t feel like it. Ever since we moved to Trondheim for your school, it’s like you’re not even in this relationship. I’ve tried to be understanding, okay, I’ve tried to ration it out. I’ve tried to step back and let you make friends, to let you adjust to classes, to get used to being here. But we’ve been here since June and now it’s November and nothing’s changed.”_

_“Are you breaking up with me?”_

_“No,” Even said. Even lied._

_Isak stood. “I don’t know what you want me to do. This is my education, my future. I can’t just put it all on hold, I can’t—”_

_“You can’t make time for me.”_

_“Don’t put words in my mouth!”_

_“It’s true,” Even snapped. There were tears streaming down his face, and Isak nearly gagged at the sight of them. “It’s fucking true. I’m not a priority in your life anymore.”_

_“I have a lot on my plate right now.”_

_Even scoffed, “So do I! Do you think this move was easy for me? Changing therapists, moving away from friends and family, sacrificing my own education? I’ve bent over backwards for you, Isak, and you can’t even find the time to touch me or kiss me or look at me anymore. You’re too busy for me, and you expect me to sit at home waiting for you to get your shit together. And I tried to do that for so long because I love you so much, but I can’t anymore. I can’t.” He was sobbing, and Isak was breaking. “Tell me to stay, Isak. Give me a reason to stay. Promise me things will change.”_

_“I can’t make that promise,” Isak whispered. “I’m getting used to all of this new shit, I’m trying my best. I can promise you that I’ll try, but I can’t promise that they’ll change.”_

_The 42 extra seconds of the day jammed itself in right there, it hung in the empty space between them as they cried. They’d almost never loved each other more than they did right then._

_“Then I can’t stay,” Even said finally._

The knocking grows more and more insistent, so Isak shoves himself out of bed again. He’s wearing only sweatpants and Even’s fucking hoodie, but he doesn’t care. Whatever friend Jonas contacted will have to put up with it, because Isak’s sad, and he thinks being sad is a good excuse to not put on real pants.

When he pulls open the door, he doesn’t expect to see Even standing there. But there he is, the same type of nervous he was back in 2016 when Isak told him to break up with his girlfriend or leave him the fuck alone and he’d showed up on Isak’s doorstep only minutes later.

“Hi,” Even says, like he’s rushing to get words in before Isak slams the door in his face.

Isak blinks. “Hi,” he replies, because there’s nothing else to say. They stand there in silence for several long beats, so much unsaid between them and yet too much said. A burning bridge that had never been fully built in the first place.

Before Isak even realizes what he’s doing, he’s looping an arm around Even’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Even stiffens initially but then melts right into it, wrapping his arms around Isak’s waist and licking into his mouth like it’s the last time they’ll ever get to taste each other. It’s practically a mirror image of that day in 2016, but that was a reunion, and this is a goodbye. Isak knows it is, deep down.

Isak kicks the door closed with his foot and then lets Even back him up into the apartment. They end up pressed against the wall, Even’s hands roaming every single inch of Isak’s skin like he’s trying to memorize it, catalogue it for later. Isak refuses to think on it too hard, and pulls his shirt off, hoping it’ll goad Even to do the same.

It does.

Soon, they’re both down to just briefs, laying horizontal on their—Isak’s—bed. Even is grinding their dicks together through the fabric, kissing Isak within an inch of his life. Isak has had sex with Even so, so many times that he knows exactly how it’ll feel when they get fully naked, and that’s why he gets so impatient. He starts pulling at Even’s waistband before he can stop himself, so desperate to get his mouth on Even.

Apparently that’s not in Even’s plans. Instead, he bats Isak’s hands away, and pulls Isak’s briefs off. Isak barely has time to look up before he’s being swallowed down. Isak’s always loved Even’s mouth, so perfectly pink and fucking expert at sucking. He knots a hand in Even’s hair and pushes him down as far as he knows Even can go, moaning and whispering his approval. Even gets off on approval, and Isak knows it, always encourages his baby as best he can. He loves the way it makes Even preen, the way Even gets more and more open in the bedroom.

Even starts swirling his tongue around the head of Isak’s cock, licking at the slit and the precum he finds there. Isak tugs on Even’s hair and arches his back, so close to coming and yet trying to stave it off. He wants to come with Even inside of him, and he won’t have it any other way.

“Even, please,” he begs, and Even hums around his dick, trying to encourage an orgasm. “N-No, want you inside me. Please, Even, I need it. Please.”

Another thing Even loves: begging. Even pulls off almost instantly, leaning back on his heels to start pumping his own dick. Isak whines at the sight, spreading his legs to try and remind Even of the task at hand. The faster Isak gets opened up, the faster Even can fuck him, and the faster they’ll both come.

Part of Isak wants this to go slow so he doesn’t have to watch Even leave again. The rest of Isak is 20 years old and is about to burst with how badly he wants to come.

Even takes the hint, reaching into his bedside table for the lube they keep there. The bottle is nearly full, which is an extremely rare occurrence. The sight nearly makes Isak’s throat close— _you can’t even find the time to touch me or kiss me or look at me anymore—_ but then Even is slipping a finger along his rim, and his mind goes blank.

“Is this okay?” Even asks, as if Isak wasn’t just begging for it moments before.

“Yes,” Isak breathes, rocking his hips against Even’s fingers. “Please hurry.”

One finger goes in with almost no resistance, meaning two can fit in just a few moments afterwards. Even’s fingers are long enough to be perfect for fingering—he never has any trouble reaching Isak’s prostate and massaging it. He’s made Isak come on his fingers way too many times to count, which is funny when Isak thinks about it, because he still to this day can’t come on his own fingers. They’re not long enough.

Pretty soon, Even’s up to three fingers and spends entirely too much time rubbing Isak’s prostate. It feels indescribably good, resulting in Isak having to grip the base of his dick to stop himself from coming _twice._ He would ask Even to hurry it along, but he’s been with Even long enough to know that it won’t matter. Even won’t fuck him until he’s sure that Isak’s prepared, so Isak’s learned to just enjoy the fingering, even if it feels excessive.

Isak hands him a condom, which Even accepts. It’s an unspoken plea to _hurry the fuck up,_ and it seems to work, because Even removes his fingers in order to roll the condom down on his dick. He slicks up with extra lube and then positions himself at Isak’s entrance, ready to push in.

“Wait!” Isak gasps, and Even pauses, his brows furrowed. He looks so frustrated and yet so gentle, and Isak is such a fucking dumbass for losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “Not like this. I want…” He rolls onto his side, pulling a knee to his chest.

Even obliges, spooning up behind him and reaching between them to line himself up again. The blunt head of his cock is such a familiar feeling that Isak could cry, but he holds it in, biting his lip as Even pushes in.

“Am I hurting you?” Even whispers, apparently taking note of Isak’s pained face. If only he knew Isak was only trying not to cry, and not because of pain. “I can stop.”

“No, you’re not hurting me. Keep going.”

So he does. He pushes in until he bottoms out, and then gives Isak a moment to adjust. “It’s been three weeks since we’ve had sex,” Even whispers. “If we missed today, it would’ve been four weeks.”

Isak doesn’t have time to think about how he nearly missed four Sundays of sex without realizing it, because Even is suddenly pistoning in and out of him at such a brutal pace that it knocks the wind out of him.

With every single thrust, Even nails his prostate dead on. It’s like he’s trying to remind Isak just what he’s been missing these past three and a half weeks, like he’s trying to show Isak what he’ll be missing from this day forward. It makes Isak want to never fucking come so Even won’t leave, but at this pace, Isak knows he can’t and won’t last very long. Even knows his body too well.

Even’s hand comes up to hold Isak’s leg up, and Isak knows that’s Even’s signal for Isak to start touching himself. It means Even’s close, and he wants them both to come pretty soon. But Isak can’t touch himself, doesn’t want to. He wants to come on Even’s dick and nothing else, so every time he thinks of the last orgasm he had, he’ll know it was 100% Even. A form of penance, perhaps. A way to make it up to Even for being the world’s shittiest boyfriend.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and it’s music to Isak’s ears. He reaches down between his legs, bypassing his red and neglected dick, resting his fingers on his perineum. Slowly, almost as if hoping to go undetected by Even, he inches his fingers forward until he can feel where they’re connected. He feels Even’s dick sliding in and out, feels how his hole stretches to accommodate him. He closes his eyes and moans so loud it’s practically pornographic, and Even’s movements suddenly become more frantic.

Isak’s whole body feels like an exposed nerve as Even starts touching it all over. He’s close, and Isak knows it. He’s close, and he’ll come, and then he’ll leave. He’s going to leave again, for the second time in as many days, and Isak can’t handle the thought. He feels so exposed and vulnerable and Even is still fucking him and God, when did he become such an asshole?

The tears fall before he can stop them. He removes hand from between his legs and covers his face, using his free hand to hold his leg up once more as Even uses both of his hands to grip Isak’s waist. Isak chokes out sobs as he inches closer and closer to orgasm, not too far behind Even. He wants to come more than anything in the world and for the first time in a long time, he wishes it were realistic for couples to come simultaneously.

“Come, baby,” Even encourages, and Isak just sobs again, a mix of pleasure of emotional pain. One more thrust and then Even is burying himself so deep that Isak gasps, spilling into the condom. Isak tried to help him ride it out, pressing his hand over his mouth to calm down before he freaks Even out and makes him think he didn’t want this.

“Fuck,” Even groans, pulling out slowly. He knots the condom and then climbs out of the bed, clearly going to get a rag. Except there’s no come on Isak’s stomach.

Even realizes that when he comes back, and his eyes go wide with guilt. He climbs back onto the bed, sitting next to where Isak’s laying. “Baby, you didn’t come? Why didn’t you say something?” He asks, smoothing the hair off of Isak’s sweaty forehead. Isak watches fear hit his face suddenly, and he knows Even realized that he’d been crying during sex. “Isak, you’re… Oh, my god. Were you crying that whole time and I didn’t even realize? Oh, my god. Did I hurt you?! Fuck, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, I—”

“Even,” Isak interrupts, reaching up to cup his cheek and caress it gently. “I’m okay. I wanted everything that just happened. I’m just crying because… I’m feeling a lot of things at once, and I’m emotional. And I love you. That’s all.”

For a moment, Even looks as though he doesn’t believe him. It quickly fades, though. Probably because he realizes that Isak would have no reason to lie—Even’s already broken up with him.

“But you didn’t come,” Even whispers, pressing wet kisses down Isak’s chest. “Do you want my mouth or my hands?”

Isak’s never one to turn down a blowjob. But tonight, he thinks he might die if he comes without Even’s lips on his. “Hands.”

Even has the decency to not look surprised, just spits in his hand and gets right to work. There’s still some excess lube there, anyway, and Isak likes a little friction. It doesn’t take long for Even to lean forward and press bruising kisses to Isak’s lips, all tongue and too much spit, and lingering wetness from Isak’s crying. The kiss is kind of gross, overall, but Isak never ever wants it to stop.

He comes in mere moments, with a weak cry of Even’s name as he spills over Even’s hand. The warm towel is finally put to use as Even cleans up, and then they both settle down on the bed, chests heaving with both labored breath and hurting hearts.

Suddenly, Isak feels like he could cry again.

“I love you,” Isak murmurs, rolling over and tucking himself into Even’s arms. “I’m sorry for everything. I love you so much. I wish there was something I could do to show you just how much I love you, but I can’t. I should’ve been showing you, I should’ve been better. You deserve better than that and I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t be what you deserve. I’m so sorry, Even, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Even whispers against Isak’s temple, and Isak’s chest heaves again with unshed sobs. Before he can beg him not to leave, hoping that begging has the same effect on this as on horny Even, the latter speaks again. “Please don’t make me leave.”

Isak sobs in relief, attaching himself to Even’s neck.

“We can talk it out in the morning, we can figure out a solution,” Even continues, rubbing circles on Isak’s back. Isak doesn’t realize Even’s crying until he feels wet drops hit his shoulder. It just makes him cling tighter. “Last night and all day today was hell without you. I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, too. I’m so sorry I did this to you. I should’ve talked to you, I should’ve worked this out, I… I’m just so sorry. Please don’t make me leave.”

“Please don’t leave,” Isak sobs, and Even finally starts openly crying with him. “At least for tonight, just stay here. Minute by minute, okay? And for this minute, stay here.”

Even stays for the night, and the next day, and the next day. And everyday after that. 

He even stays for the extra 42 seconds.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @medicineontour


End file.
